I'll Be Home
by oboe11
Summary: A short Christmas story for Hogan


The T.V. show Hogan's Heroes belongs to Bing Crosby Productions. No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred, and no infringement is intended.

* * *

Colonel Robert Hogan, United States Army Air Corps, ran as fast as he could, clutching the duffle bag of carefully prepared packages close to his chest, hoping they wouldn't be damaged in his mad flight. Perspiration trickled down his forehead as he wound his way across the open spaces, dodging obstacles in his way. He had a train to catch and he was literally running late. Hearing the train whistle in the station, Hogan made a last surge and jumped aboard the nearest car, just as the engine started pulling out of the station. He made it. Puffing from exertion, Hogan made his way into the passenger car and found a window seat. Collapsing with exhaustion into the seat, he made sure his bag was secure before leaning his head back against the window to watch the scenery pass and catch his breath. Soon he drifted to sleep with the rocking of the train as it hurried down the tracks.

* * *

He was awake as the train pulled into his stop. Departing the train at a much more sedate pace than his boarding, Hogan tried to be inconspicuous as he crossed the station platform with his duffle and made his way out into the city streets. His final destination was several blocks away and with the weather being clear and crisp with a dusting of snow on the ground, but not freezing, Hogan decided it would be easier to walk than to try to find transportation. Crossing several streets, turning left here and right there, he took note of the many changes that had occurred since he'd been here last. He kept his head down as he passed anyone on the street, trying not to look too out of place. Fortunately, the streets were nearly deserted at this time of day, with only the occasional vehicle quickly speeding by, delivering people to the warmth of other homes. 

Soon he rounded a corner and saw the two-storey white clapboard house that marked the end of his journey. He automatically ducked behind a large tree so as not to be noticed by any occupants who happened to look out the window in his direction, while surveying the quiet street. Hogan evaluated the best way to approach the house without being seen and set out across the yard. He stealthily worked his way to the front door, with his bag of fragile parcels slung over his shoulder.

Once on the front porch, Hogan reached for the door and breathed the fresh pine scent of the wreath decorating the door. He quietly turned the knob praying it was unlocked. It was – his luck was holding. Silently he slipped inside, closing the door behind him as the warmth of home enveloped him.

From the foyer, he could hear lots of noise coming from the back of the house. Excited chatter, high-pitched squeals and low melodic laughter from the group of men, women, and children gathered in the living room made its way to the front of the house. Hogan closed his eyes and savored the sounds. Emotion rose up and overwhelmed him as tears threatened to fill his eyes. It had been so long since he had seen any of his family and they had no idea he was here. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself and prepared to move down the hall towards the ruckus.

Tip-toeing down the hall, the words were becoming more distinct and he could hear the ripping of wrapping paper and the gasps of surprise as the presents were passed around and opened. Reaching the doorframe but still out of sight, Hogan slipped his duffel of gifts off his shoulder and waited for a lull to make his entrance. Strangely, he suddenly broke into a cold sweat as a hard bundle of nerves settled into his now-aching stomach.

A lull in the conversations happened as the next round of presents was distributed to eagerly awaiting hands. Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, Hogan stepped out from his hiding spot in the hall. He had planned on shouting "Merry Christmas!" but it came out as little more than a whisper as his voice cracked with emotion.

Every head in the room turned towards the doorway and complete silence descended. Jaws dropped and eyes went round with shock at the man who had suddenly appeared as if Santa himself had dropped him down the chimney.

"Robert?" The quietly whispered name came from the older woman across the room and broke the silence.

"Yes, Mom. I'm home. I made it for Christmas, just like I promised in my letters," Rob replied as he rushed across the room to envelop his mother in a crushing bear hug.

"You're home! You're home!" Tears welled up and overflowed in eyes around the room and like a dam bursting, suddenly everyone was clamoring for hugs and yelling hellos to their long-lost family member who had finally come home from war. Presents were forgotten as the best gift they could have received was surrounded. Rob found himself drowning in a sea of hugs and kisses and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

* * *

Hogan's eyes flew open at the resounding crash that occurred in the next room. Quickly sitting up, his eyes surveyed his room. The locker in the corner; the planning table with its cup of pencils, reading light and coffee pot; the poster of the pin-up girl hung haphazardly beside his bunk: his office at Stalag 13. The crash was the barrack door as Shultz came in to rouse them for roll call. His eyes drifted towards the calendar on the wall beside the window. Dec 25th: Christmas Day. He hung his head and ran a hand through his hair, overwhelmed by sadness this time. 

A dream. It was all a dream. So real, he could still feel the arms of his family around him welcoming home when he closed his eyes – eyes that stung from the painful reality of still being held prisoner while the rest of his family were free.

The words of an old song danced in his head "I'll be home for Christmas…if only in my dreams."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Next year, Mom. Next year…"


End file.
